Why I'm not a Religionist, IV

Continuing on the premise of the ending thoughts of the last WINAR I wrote . . .

When I don't love Jesus as much as I should, I turn to religion to fill me up.

Maybe that's why Jesus never implicitly preached a sermon on the state of the dead. He confused people when he talked about Jairus' daughter being asleep, but he never went into the nitty-gritty.

Maybe that's why Jesus never implicitly preached a sermon on the relevance and infallibility of the Torah. He quoted it and used it profusely, but he never defended it in a sermon.

Maybe that's why when I, feeling empty inside and maybe a little wanting, look at how I went over the amount of worships I was supposed to go to this semester and feel good about myself.

Maybe that's why I don't always feel the urge to go out and preach (scary, huh?).

Maybe that's why I don't know what I would say to people I meet in the street.

P. Herrera was walking down an interstate to the next town looking for a mechanic because his truck was broken. My dad and I gave him a lift. Yet in all the time he was in the car with us I never mentioned Jesus. On one hand I felt good about this "good deed," but on the other--was he able to figure out I am a Christian?

Or the time I gave some cereal to some people stranded on the road, or the time I put money in the bin of a raggedy-tobacco-smelling-bell-ringing Salvation Army volunteer when I was with my friends--do they and people that saw that know that I'm a Christian?

I came to the conclusion that I'm not going to call myself a Christian anymore, because that is a label that others should bestow on me. Plenty of "Christians" have muddied Jesus' name, myself included.

But when I love Jesus, for real love Jesus, I won't need to turn to my good deeds checklist or my Bible verses known or my attendance to round-table discussions and seminars.

I'm not saying I won't need to know the state of the dead or other doctrine, but it would now be easier for me to know what to say.

Because I won't be trying to convert them.

Because I won't be trying to check off doctrines taught to that person.

Because I won't be trying to enslave them in my personal religious system.

Because I won't be reading a script of what I should say when the door opens.

Because I won't have anything to say, rather God will speak through my love for Him translated into what I do for them, not out of obligation or to make myself feel good, will set them free from the chains they have, be it poverty, hunger, depression, friendlessness, or even making a perfectly happy person feeling good about themselves.

It would set me free, too, from trying to conform to my personal religious system.

From trying to convert others.

From making service a burden.

From reading a script of what to say when the person rejects the cookbook.

From the realization that I do not feel the urge to go out and preach because I am preaching with my actions.

Or maybe I'm just crazy.

Not much to say. . .until now.

It has been 14 days since I last posted anything, and the last post was me killing time in between assignments. The one before took two seconds to write. And the one before was a poem I wrote on that painting that I had to turn in to my Arts and Ideas class. So it's been a while since I've posted anything substantial originally for this blog . . . although only Elena and my dad would have noticed anyway.

Still, I have had entirely too much to do over the past three weeks, and now that I finished that I began to recharge. As I promised myself, I bought myself a book now that the semester is over. I couldn't choose between Crime and Punishment and Les Miserables, so at random I got Les Mis. I have started both of these before but never finished them.

I have all of a sudden have become aware of a major movie/musical based on Les Mis coming out on Christmas day. This gave me an idea.

I have challenged myself to finish all 1462 pages of Les Mis before the movie is scheduled to come out, so here I go. Wish me luck!

Once again . . .(or, Random Rant, VII)

. . . nearing the end of the semester, I find that what I had planned out didn't go the way I thought it would.

Still, I know I accomplished more than I set out to. Honestly, the fact that everything didn't go as expected is sobering and necessary. As I've said before, I tend to dream a little big, and while there's no problem with that my dreams are--more often than not--leaning towards the "un-realistic" side.

Since they are a bit unreal, it gives me the opportunity to see how the real stuff happens before my very eyes, sometimes even better than I had imagined in my huge dream.

As this is being written, I am in my office waiting for an update on the design of the last Clocktower of the semester. My phone's just about dead, I got locked out of my office for the umpteenth time (when I finally got my door opened again, my keys were sitting there on my desk, almost non-chalantly), and just pondering as I peruse my Facebook feed and (unconsciously) listen to Coldplay's "Green Eyes".

 Also subconsciously, until now, I've been making good use of a stress ball in shape of a person I acquired yesterday. Poor thing was white, but now is yellow. I'm not sure why, I cleaned it off with a Clorox wipe and it got worse. At least it's not my hands that made it yellow.